Spaghetti Night
by Toodleoo
Summary: Harry and the gang discuss Hermione and Snape's love life. What do they really mean when they say it's Spaghetti Night? [Hermione/Snape, Harry/Luna, and Ron/Pansy] Loaded with sexual innuendo and language, mature themes.


'Goodness, look at the time!' cried Hermione Snape, surrounded by her friends over at Grimmauld Place. She had stopped by briefly after work in order to drop off some paperwork for Harry, but had allowed herself to linger when she found everyone chatting and sharing drinks together.

Harry and Luna were both home, and Ron and Pansy were over visiting as well. The house suited Harry and Luna, what with its odd mishmash of furnishings in each room that were more practical than stylish. Each room covered in moving photographs, and portraits commissioned of James, Lily, and Persephone Lovegood to fill the void left after they'd finally figured out how to banish Sirius's dreadful mum.

'You just got here, Hermione,' Harry said, gesturing at the full bar. 'I'll pour you another glass of wine. Unless you'd like something else?'

While it was a tempting offer, she really needed to be heading out. Hermione shook her head, thinking about how exhausted her husband would be when he arrived home. 'It's almost 7 o'clock. I should have left thirty minutes ago! I told Severus I'd handle all the cooking while he's going through the patent trials for his latest potion this week.'

'What night is tonight?' Luna asked, a serene smile on her face. She was seated next to Harry on their sofa, her legs curled beneath her.

'It's Tuesday night at the Snape residence, which means it's Spaghetti Night.' Hermione threw on her overcoat, waved to all assembled, and headed for the Floo in the other room. 'Goodnight!'

The tell tale whooshing sound signaled her departure.

Pansy snickered as soon as Hermione was on her way. 'Spaghetti Night? I can't even guess what that means.'

'This one is not what it appears to be,' Luna replied. She looked thoughtful as she stirred her gin and tonic with a carrot stick. 'Usually they're much more straight forward.'

Harry and Ron exchanged a confused glance. What the hell were their wives talking about? Nothing that Hermione had said was out of the ordinary, after all, especially for her and Snape. Those two loved the culinary arts. They took cookery classes together, they shopped at ludicrously overpriced markets, and they talked about cooking all the bloody time.

'Er…' Ron began, running a hand through his hair, 'I don't want to be jumping to any conclusions here, but I think that when Hermione says that it's Spaghetti Night, she means that she's going to cook Snape some spaghetti.'

Luna and Pansy shared a knowing look.

'You know…' Ron continued, mumbling now as their reactions made him question himself. 'For dinner. Pasta for dinner.'

Pansy burst into laughter—riotous, indelicate guffaws—and Luna merely sat down beside her husband and patted his hand.

Harry glanced around the room, baffled as to why he was sitting there explaining the obvious. 'You two know Hermione and her food days. She loves her schedules—always has. First it was Taco Tuesdays, then Sausage Saturdays.' He paused to think for a bit. 'What are Fridays again?'

'Fudge,' Luna supplied helpfully, wrapping her arm around her husband's waist and snuggling up closer, 'which is not everyone's cup of tea, even with substantial preparation and lubrication, but Hermione seems to like it.'

'Mollusk Mondays?' Pansy added. 'Wasn't that one of their things for awhile?'

Luna nodded. 'I thought about trying to get Harry to set aside days like that with me, but in the end, I like spontaneity a little too much for such a rigid sexual schedule.'

Harry and Ron both spit out their drinks. Still cackling, Pansy sidled up beside her man, slapping him on the back as he regained his breath. 'Sexual… sex…. WHAT?!' Ron cried. Pansy looked at him and burst out laughing. 'Oh, you innocent man. Shall I let you know what your beloved Granger has been up to with the nasty Potions master?' Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. 'What are you talking about?

'Understanding comes at different times for different people,' Luna asked, rubbing Harry's knee. 'Don't let it bother you, Harry.'

'So Mollusk Mondays are… what?' Ron left the question lingering in the air.

Pansy sat on his lap, draping an arm around his shoulders so she could scrape her perfectly polished nails along his scalp. 'I assume Hermione was getting her clam eaten out by the skilled professor.'

'Cunnilingus,' Luna added. She turned to her husband and explained further. 'Since a clam greatly resembles a vulva. You know, Harry. Like last Thursday, when you lifted me up on this coffee table and began to lick my—'

Harry began coughing loudly in order to cover over Luna's detailed description. 'I don't think Ron and Pansy want to hear about that, dear.'

Giving him an evil grin, Pansy leaned in. 'As long as you Scourgify afterwards, you can fuck your little woman anywhere you'd like, Potter.'

Ron swallowed his disgust as he spoke. 'So… sausages? They don't… er… grill them or something? I always thought they grilled them.'

'They don't even own a grill,' Luna said. She took another sip of her drink. 'While I suppose it is possible that Hermione and Severus are making bratwurst or blood sausage at home, I find it much more likely that Hermione is performing fellatio on him regularly.'

Harry blanched.

And Pansy began giggling again. 'Blood sausage! Luna, darling, I will forever think of Snape's cock and blood sausage together now.'

'He has a rather friendly penis,' Luna said, adding a few more ice cubes to her drink and giving it another stir.

Glancing between Luna and Harry's mouth, hanging open in shock, Ron asked the question that needed to be asked. 'Er… Luna? How do you know if Snape's got a friendly... thing?'

'I just do,' she said. Nobody else seemed to notice these obvious facts of life, so Luna took it upon herself to explain them to her friends. 'Just like I know that yours gets grumpy in the wintertime, and Harry's is shy in company.'

While the men both turned red, Pansy laughed again. 'Right you are, Luna! At least about Ron's cock. I can't testify to Harry's bashful prick. Ooh—do my pussy next! What's it like in a full moon?'

Luna looked at her crotch thoughtfully for a moment or two. 'Hungry.'

The brunette merely raised her eyebrows knowingly at Ron, who nodded. 'Yep. That's pretty much spot on.'

Pouring a significant amount of gin in his now empty glass, Harry pinched the skin between his eyes as he tried to forget everything he'd just heard.

'Our Granger's a right little cocksucker,' Pansy continued, needling Ron as she painted a colourful picture of the Snapes' home life. 'At least, she always appears rather enthusiastic on sausage nights. Have you ever seen her eat a banana? That woman seems to lack a gag reflex. Severus is a lucky, lucky man.'

Ron was turning slightly green as he considered the possibilities.

Shaking his head in defiance, Harry still found Luna's and Pansy's interpretation hard to swallow. Hermione wasn't some brazen woman, chatting up sex in front of their friends and family. She was Hermione, knitter of uneven scarves, purveyor of muffins, and Ministry official par excellence.

As for Snape? Harry shuddered. He imagined that when his former professor dropped his trousers, there was nothing but shadows and wind to be found.

As he thought over all the times that he and Luna had been over at the Snapes' home for dinner, his brain latched onto a single glimmer of hope. 'Ha!' he cried, happy to have found the proof he needed. 'That can't possibly be right. I have been over at their house on Friday nights before, and they served actual chocolate fudge for afters.'

'Oh, yes,' Luna said, still smiling. 'I believe Severus said that he always handled the fudge, didn't he? That he was slow and methodical, never skimping on preparation?'

'He's just messing with you, Potter,' Pansy said, reveling in the opportunity to scar Harry for the rest of his days. 'Trust me on this one. Slytherin's honor.'

Harry looked unconvinced.

Ron looked around the room, still confused. 'So what does Spaghetti Night mean, then?'

* * *

Standing at the stove, Hermione monitored two pots that were heating up. In one, water just coming to a boil, with just a touch of added salt to season it. In the other, onions were sautéing in olive oil with a little minced garlic. She leaned over the pot, enjoying the moist heat on her skin. Spaghetti nights, initially requested by her husband a few months ago, had quickly become a favourite in the Snape home. After all, both Hermione and Severus went into work at noon on Wednesdays, so they could afford to let loose a little on Tuesdays.

The anticipation was almost as delicious as the lovemaking itself, and all day long, Hermione dreamt herself to distraction thinking of her husband's touch. She sang along to the radio as she pulled out the tomatoes, tomato paste, anchovies, and oregano, neatly placing them on her counter in the order by which she would need to add them to her sauce. Seeing that the water had finally hit a rolling boil, she emptied a box of spaghetti noodles to the pan—the extra long ones that Severus loved to slurp off—

Just then, a whoosh from the next room sounded the Floo.

Odd, Hermione thought. Severus always Apparates home after work. Whatever was the case, she was sure he'd give an explanation. After all, he'd just put up with roughly ten hours of Ministry nonsense as they tested his latest potion for market.

She'd been thinking about her man all day long: the smell of him, the feel of his hands on her skin, the sound of his—

'Hey!' called a male voice. 'Hey, Hermione?'

It definitely wasn't Severus.

'In the kitchen, Harry!' she called. Having added the fresh tomatoes, she was at a delicate stage in the sauce. She wasn't about to let it burn just to follow through on the social niceties of answering the Floo and taking Harry's bloody coat. Besides, Harry was practically family.

He burst through the door, hat askew and coat haphazardly hanging off his frame as though he'd thrown it on in great haste. Not that Harry ever really looked put together, Hermione reflected. Unlike most men, who cleaned up their sartorial game when a woman was around, Harry's marriage to Luna cemented his mismatched ways for good. He was lucky if his buttons all lined up and his shoes were both the same colour.

His eyes darted between her face, the boiling noodles, and the tomato sauce.

And then back to the noodles.

To her face.

And again to the sauce.

An awkward grin blossomed on his face, followed by a huge sigh. 'Thank goodness!' he said, collapsing on an empty wooden chair. He took off his hat to wipe his brow, setting it down on the small kitchen table. This was strange behaviour, even for Harry. Of course, he had just put away two Luna-strength cocktails in the last hour. A quiet chuckle rumbled up through his chest, gradually turning into full belly laughter. 'You wouldn't….' he began, pausing every so often to catch a breath, 'wouldn't…. w-w-wouldn't believe what I thought w-w-w-was going on here!' He continued laughing as Hermione stirred the sauce.

Oh, my, Hermione thought to herself. Has Harry finally figured out what Severus and I have been talking about all these years? That didn't seem likely. She loved Harry, but his obliviousness knew no boundaries. Of course, Luna and Pansy knew, but Hermione was fine with that. Luna's open smiles and Pansy's sly winks amused Severus almost as much as the way he publically discussed his and Hermione's sex life in code.

Deciding to downplay things, Hermione merely rolled her eyes. 'Harry, go home and drink some water. Eat something, for crying out loud, and think about getting some sleep.'

An indelicate snort left the man. 'Yeah,' he said, hoisting himself up from his seat. 'I'll do that.'

'Before you go, tell me if this needs more salt,' Hermione asked, holding up a spoonful of the red sauce for him.

'I feel like it's missing something.' Harry dipped his head down to accept the taste. His stomach growled. 'That's fantastic, Hermione. Snape'll love it. Don't change a thing, yeah?'

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead. 'Sounds good. Now go eat something!'

And with that, Harry was off.

Hermione returned to her cooking. The spaghetti was ready, so she took it to the sink, straining the noodles. It was just the sauce that still needed work, no matter what Harry thought. Perhaps a little red wine.

Lovely stuff, rotten grapes. She popped the cork and took a swig. Well done, fermentation, she thought, drinking straight from the bottle. This was a nice vintage. Surely it would add a depth of flavour her tomato sauce needed. However, after dumping a cup or so into the pot only served to thin it out. She'd have to cook it down a bit to get it to thicken up adequately, so she lowered the heat to let it simmer for awhile.

Turning up the radio again, Hermione slipped out of her knickers. She danced down the hall and tossed them into the master bedroom. After all, she was a woman who valued preparedness. If things had gone badly for Severus at the Ministry today, he'd need a little comforting. If things had gone well, he'd probably be feeling rather cocky and manly, and that typically led to one of Hermione's favourite things.

Severus Snape was the fuck of a lifetime. If a perfect penis existed, it was the one that belonged to her husband. Not too long, it was thick, but not painfully so, with just a little curve up at the end. And his body? He was thin, but he was lean. Almost no body fat. He was a tad pale, but that only made it easier for Hermione to see him in their bed at night, what with how the moon reflected off his skin. His nose, too, had proven remarkably useful in many situations, amorous and otherwise. The fact that he could rub her clit with it while licking honey from her pot made Hermione want to award it its own Order of Merlin, First Class.

More than any of that, though, was Severus Snape's fierce honour, his commitment to excellence, and his devotion to those he deemed worthy. Hermione had been humbled to find that she had found herself placed in that category, having earned his respect and admiration after the war. Their subsequent romance had blossomed quickly, despite the fact that he was still shit at discussing his feelings. When he'd finally been able to utter the three little words she'd been longing to hear, he'd followed them up with another four and a ring. Three years in, and they were still as much in love as ever.

So Hermione stood, stirring her sauce with an old wooden spoon, waiting for her husband to return. What would he have planned for her tonight? She closed her eyes, imagining his presence. Would he be playful tonight? Demanding? Giving? She didn't know. The fingers of her free hand undid a few buttons on her blouse, slipping under the fabric to tease her own nipple through her lace bra. Was it hot in the kitchen? She could have opened a window or cast a Cooling Charm, but she didn't want to.

'My, my,' rumbled a low, quiet voice. Severus, home at last. 'This is a pretty picture.'

Hermione didn't turn around, but kept on stirring her sauce, resolute. 'Am I?'

He stepped closer, pressing his body up behind hers, her hips held firmly in his grip. 'So vain, Missus Snape.' Severus leaned over her shoulder, staring into the stainless pot. 'I meant the spaghetti sauce, of course.'

He was a terrible tease.

Hermione was about to protest, but then his lips found her neck, nibbling and sucking on her skin as though she were on the menu tonight. She lost focus, drifting off so that the only thing she was aware of was his steady presence.

Her husband worked his way up the column of her neck and caught her earlobe between his crooked teeth, and he pressed his hard length against her arse. 'Oh, my,' he whispered, his mouth brushing her skin. 'You've forgotten to stir, haven't you?'

She blinked her eyes open. What had Severus just said? Oh, yes. Something about stirring. She glanced down at the pot, only to spy some odd lumps that needed to be reincorporated into the sauce.

His hands left her hips then, as he slid them forward and reached under her skirt. 'For the record, wife, you are not merely pretty. You, my darling, are beauty incarnate, Aphrodite herself.' She sighed happily, relaxing into his touch, enjoying the way his fingers traced up and down her thighs.

When she let out a soft moan, he began to play with her pussy, gently tugging her outer lips. Gods, but she was glad she'd chucked her knickers earlier. They would have been a mess by now.

'Are you remembering to stir?' he asked, inserting one long finger inside her. 'Continual stirring,' he said, swirling that finger around in slow circles, 'is key to success.'

'You… you bastard,' Hermione said, her voice shaky. She was trying to catch her breath, and then he added a second finger. Her free hand drifted up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She laughed aloud. 'I'm stirring, all right?'

He added a third finger inside her channel, and he used his other hand to rub circles across her most sensitive spots. 'Excellent.'

And for a moment, both Snapes stood at their stove, stirring all the while.

'Please, Severus,' Hermione whimpered. Surely he knew what she wanted, didn't he?

He did.

With very little trouble, Severus opened the placket of his trousers, pulled himself out, and entered her from behind.

She gasped at the feeling of fullness, with her husband finally buried in her body. 'This tool,' she said, laughing in sheer delight as he possessed her greedily, 'is much more satisfying than what you were using earlier.'

'You like my spoon, do you?' he asked, beginning to set a rhythm. Each thrust into her lifted her heels off the floor.

She ground back against him as he pounded into her body, forgetting the sauce completely. 'I like your everything, husband.'

He worked her up to a heated frenzy before backing off, stilling his body inside hers.

'I like your everything,' Hermione said, needing to clarify things, her husband still hard inside her, 'but if you don't let me come, I will hurt you, Severus Snape.'

'All in due time,' he said. He reached around to flip off the heat to the burner. While her body trembled in his arms, pushed to the precipice but not pushed over the cliff, he wrapped his arms around her waist, soothing her nerves. 'I love you so.'

How had she ever lived without him? She turned her head to the side to kiss him, and he—

Just then, the Floo opened in the other room, and several things happened in rather fast succession.

'Harry!' she cried, panicking at the thought of her oldest friend discovering her mid-coitus.

'Potter?' Severus asked.

'Shit, shit, shitty shit, shit…' She was babbling now, but she couldn't help herself. 'That fucking nitwit. I will kill him when he…'

'Say, Hermione?' Harry called, bumbling about in the other room. 'Have you seen my hat?'

Thankfully, her husband took control of matters. In one smooth motion, Severus sat down on the kitchen chair, still out from the table from where Harry had sat earlier. He pulled her down with him, and he wordlessly and wandlessly shot a variety of cleansing spells over them both. The sweat left her hair, and the buttons on her shirt slipped through their holes once more.

That's how Hermione Snape found herself fully clothed, yet embedded on her husband's hard cock, talking to her clueless friend as though nothing out of the ordinary were taking place. 'Your what?' she asked, trying to make her voice sound calm.

Her brain was a flurry of activity. Did she look like she was just sitting on her husband's lap? She dearly hoped didn't Severus stun Harry? Surely he would have known that Hermione would have acquitted him of any violence done, given the circumstances. Should she knock Harry out before he walked into the kitchen? Would Harry even notice anything was off?

In the end, she was left with two surprising questions: Why wasn't Severus's erection flagging in the slightest? Was he more of an exhibitionist than he let on?

Harry finally poked his head into the kitchen. 'Hi, Snape.'

'Potter,' Severus drawled.

Did she just feel her husband twitch inside her? He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Hermione clenched around him, just to make him squirm.

'Er….' Harry said, a blush rising to his cheeks, 'I didn't mean to bother you two.' He glanced around the kitchen. 'You haven't eaten yet, have you? Isn't it spaghetti tonight?'

'The… the… er, sauce,' Hermione said, desperate to keep Harry from noticing anything, 'is almost ready. I've been stirring for ages.'

Severus bounced her a bit on his lap, and Hermione saw stars as he brushed up again some of her favourite spots. 'You say that as though you alone were doing all the work.' He smirked at Harry. 'I've been stirring this pot for the last ten minutes at least.'

Hermione smacked him.

'Of course,' Severus continued, 'Hermione had already been quite busy before I returned home.' He sweetly kissed her shoulder, acting all . 'Hadn't you, darling?'

'What do you want, Harry?' she asked, her words as blunt as she could make them.

'What? Oh…' Harry said, eyeing them as though they were a puzzle to be solved. He spotted what he came for on the table, and scooped it up. 'My hat!'

'Take it and get the fuck out,' Snape said, trailing hot kisses up his wife's neck.

'Fine, fine,' Harry said. He paused in the doorway. 'You know, you've got a button in the wrong place there, Hermione.'

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back against her husband. Why couldn't Harry get a fucking clue? 'Thanks, Harry!' she called, reaching up to take care of it. 'Say hi to Luna for me.'

And the idiot finally turned and left.

'Do you think he bought it?' Hermione asked, rising up before dropping her weight down on him again.

'Do I fucking care?' Snape answered in retort. His hands found her hips, and she rode him until they both tumbled off the chair onto the floor.

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry hung up his hat on one of the hooks in the hall and wandered around until he found his wife alone in the library, seated on a chaise in the corner. Ron and Pansy must have left while he was gone. He kissed Luna on the lips and sat down beside her. 'For the record, you and Pansy don't know what you're talking about.'

Luna brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. 'Oh?'

'They had almost finished making the spaghetti when I got there,' Harry explained. 'No hanky panky going on at all. They're like an old married couple, which is weirdly sweet, seeing as it's Snape. You'd never believe how lovey-dovey he is with her. Why, she was perched on his knee when I got there.'

'Sometimes,' Luna said knowingly, 'we see what we wish to see.'

Harry thought about it for a minute. Hermione had been sitting on Snape's lap, hadn't she? He tried to recreate the mental picture of what he'd seen, just like those training exercises all Aurors had to do in training. Now that he thought about it, she had been a bit flushed. And Snape was in a hurry to get him to leave, but then, Snape was always in a hurry to get Harry to leave him alone. Was Luna onto something after all? No. No, it couldn't be. This was Hermione. Hermione and Snape. And Snape's hands were visible the whole time, so he couldn't have been pulling anything untoward with Hermione.

Harry laughed aloud and looked at his wife. ' _This_ time, Luna,' he said gently, 'I think you're just talking crazy.'

* * *

 _If you enjoyed this at all, please leave a review! It's the only thing that lets me know I should keep writing._


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